


Wish you were here

by Tashilover



Category: In The Flesh
Genre: Short, snap shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy was still afraid she was going to be walking into some extreme cult, the kind where they believe all virgin women should bear babies and poison kool-aid was a common drink at parties.</p><p> </p><p>A snap shot of Amy and her time with the ULA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish you were here

Amy wasn't sure what to expect.

Half of her was still afraid she was going to be walking into some extreme cult, the kind where they believe all virgin women should bear babies and poison kool-aid was a common drink at parties.

According to the email they had sent her, they were going to pick her up from the station. They didn't tell her who to look for, they didn't give her a name, they just said to be there at two.

So here she was.

People bustled around her, oblivious to her situation, as they carried on with their own lives. There was a mother to Amy's left struggling with her three young children. To her right, there was a business man talking endlessly on his mobile phone, rushing past Amy to get to the train. He carried a black briefcase and for a few minutes after he was gone, Amy imagined him to be a secret agent off to fight crime.

She checked her watch, saw it was now 2:23. She wondered if she'd been abandoned.

Maybe Kieren was right. Maybe she shouldn't have left Roarton.

She shook her head at that thought. No, no matter how scared or intimidated she felt, this was the right thing to do. She needed to be with people who knew and understood what she had gone through, who didn't look at her like she was Frankenstein's monster.

She really wished Kieren was here.

"Amy Dyer?"

Amy twirled so sharply towards the voice, her skirts nearly did a full 360 on her hips. She fought to keep a straight face as the person who called her walked up, a little amused by the sudden twirl. "Ah, hi," the man said, smiling. His mousse wasn't as applied as carefully as hers was. Nobody else noticed but her. "I take it you're Amy?"

"Yes," Amy said, relief washing down upon her. "Yes, I am."

 

 

 

 

Any felt like she was thirteen again when her nana sent her to a summer camp. She was trembling with excitement, clutching her suitcase as Tom showed her around the small community of the ULA.

This place was so much bigger than she expected. She had imagined a small community house, like the ones universities had where about ten or so people shared living space. In reality the ULA had seized the property of an old, abandoned primary school and fixed it like new.

It wasn't the building that excited her, it was the people. Never has she been around so many of her fellow undead before. Not since her days at the treatment facility. _Nobody_ wore mousse or contacts. It made Amy feel self-conscious.

"And over here we have the game area. It's not much, mostly stuff people have thrown out."

"Do you have Connect Four?"

Tom threw her a look over his shoulder. "What's that?"

Seriously? "It's a board game..."

"Oh... I don't think so. Anyways, over here we have the washing machines..."

Tom didn't really have much of personality. Though it was clear he was much older than her, he sounded like a bored teenager on his first job as museum tour guide. Amy quickly learned not to ask too many questions because he didn't have an answer. Still, she tried her best to listen to what he was saying.

Off in the distance, she heard music playing.

It didn't sound like it came from the radio. There was a single voice echoing through the halls, accompanied by a guitar, getting louder as she walked. She didn't recognize the song. It was nice, whatever it was.

When Tom noticed her bopping her head along with the beat, he sighed and said, "Oh my god, he got to you too."

Amy jerked. "Hmm? What?"

"Simon," Tom said. "He's one of the Disciples of the Undead Prophet."

" _Disciples_?" Amy snorted. " _Really?"_

"You'll meet him eventually. Let's finish the tour first and then I'll let you settle in."

They passed the room where the music was coming from, and they were just far away enough from it for Amy to barely get a good look. The person she assumed was Simon sat in a chair while others sat on the floor around him. Like a teacher with a story time book.

She liked him immediately.

 

 

 

 

That night Amy went to bed, tired and happy. As much as she missed Kieren, she was glad she came.

 

 

 

 

Simon held out a hand for her to take. "Hi there," he said with a bright smile. "I'm Simon."

The very first thing to pop into Amy's head were the words of Squidward.

_OH NO, HE'S HOT._

 

 

 

The first chance she got, Amy snuck away to find a telephone. Though it wasn't technically illegal to have a phone or send letters, some of the workers here at the camp were so testy when it came to communication, especially for newcomers.

She really didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble for herself, but -dear god- she wanted to talk to Kieren so badly. She missed his face, his voice, his giant doe-eyes. It was going to be heartbreaking for him to learn Amy had found a new love. He'll understand.

The phone at the Walker residence picked up after three rings. "Hello?"

Oh thank goodness, it was Kieren's mum. Amy wasn't sure what would happen if his sister had picked up. "Hi there, Mrs. Walker! It's me, Amy Dyer, how are you?"

"Oh... um, hello dear. I'm fine. And... um, you...?"

"I'm great! Now, I don't want you to feel as if under appreciated, but may I talk to Kieren, please? I miss that boy so much."

"Oh..." her voice changed. It shifted from being politely awkward to soft and hurt. "Of course, dear. But I do need to warn about something. It's... it's Rick."

 

 

 

 

Amy ran right out of the compound, uncaring where her feet carried her. She didn't slow when others called out to her, asking her what was wrong. She didn't slow when the security yelled out after her, demanding she stop. She ran until she hit the tree line, and only the fear of falling over and cutting open her dead, cold hands made her slow. With a sob, she kneeled down into the mud.

"Kieren" she gasped. "Kieren..."

She knew it was impossible, but it felt like her heart was breaking. A sharp, horrific pain stabbed her in her chest, making it hard to breath as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

As much as Amy disliked Rick, as much as she thought of him as a jerk-ass who didn't know perfection when he got it, she knew how much he meant to Kieren. She saw how Rick's mere presence lit up Kieren's face, made him giggle with joy. No matter what Amy thought of Rick, she had no right to take that away from Kieren. Rick was the only reason why Amy didn't fight harder to convince Kieren to come with her.

She could only imagine what it was like. To come home to find the boy you loved propped up against your house like some fucking discarded marionette. It was too cruel.

"Amy?"

Amy gasped. She lifted her head up, hastily wiping at her face as Simon came into view, torch in hand. "Are you okay?"

She couldn't even bring herself to nod her head. "No..." she whimpered.

Without care he was going to stain his own clothes, Simon kneeled down next to her. He reached out and gently grasped her hand. "Tell me."

 

 

 

 

Over the next few months, Amy sent out a letter to Kieren every week. She told him of her experiences, of her new found friends, of the stories shared around the (literal) campfire. She ended every letter with, 'I miss your face. Wish you Here.'

The first letter from him came sluggishly, nearly three weeks after Rick. It was a short letter, thanking Amy for all of her support.

This sounded like a 'Dear John' type of note, and Amy was afraid Kieren was going to stop all communication with her permanantly. Three days later, she got a flat package from him.

Kieren had painted a self-portrait.

Like most of his portraits, he wasn't smiling in this one. He stared straight ahead, his facial features neutral. 'Amy,' he wrote. 'I miss your face too. Come home soon, I would love to paint you one day.'

Amy sent back a one-worded letter the next day. Waste of postage stamps, but she didn't care.

NUDE?

Kieren responded just as quickly.

FINE. BUT I WILL BE WEARING A SMOCK.

 

 

 

 

When injustice becomes law, resistance becomes duty.

As practice, they had Amy sit in a chair in the middle of a darken room. Her fellow undead peers applied mousse to their faces to emphasize the situation.

"Fucking Rotter," they snapped at her, jabbing her in the shoulder or across the head as they circled her. "You're a monster!"

They instructed her not to respond. That this was something she was going have to get used to, to ready herself for the real thing.

Simon stood silently in a corner, his arms crossed his chest, watching the proceedings. If he was there testing her, Amy was determined to pass. As the threats and slurs became more violent, she could feel her resolve breaking.

Someone grabbed her flower clip from her hair, then tossed it back into her face. "Bitch! Zombie bitch!"

She was shaking. It reminded her too much of what Gary did to her, holding her down, straddling her, as he smeared her favourite coloured lipstick across her mouth.

When one of them sneered into her ear, " _I'm going to chop off your head_ ," she burst into tears.

"That's enough," Simon said loudly, stepping forward.

The others dispersed, pulling out handkerchiefs from their pockets to wipe the mousse off. Simon placed a gentle hand on Amy's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I know I should be stronger-"

"No, no, none of that. We are simply trying to prepare you for a possible scenario. Nobody really expects you to fight the system sitting down and saying nothing."

She still felt like a failure. Jesus, she wanted a cup of tea.

"C'mon," Simon said, taking her lightly by the arm. "Let's take a walk."

 

 

 

 

"What do you remember of your Rising?"

"My Rising?" Amy repeated, snorting. "Not much, really. I just remember feeling so... lonely."

"Lonely?" There was a sudden peak of interest in Simon's voice. "What do you mean?"

"Um... I guess it's like when you were back in school, and the teacher told everyone to pair up, but your best mate was in a different classroom and you didn't know anybody. It was a bit like that. I was surrounded by so many others, but nobody wanted to be my partner."

"Oh," said Simon. It was subtle, but the interest was gone. Amy was going to have to ask him about that later. "Then what happened?"

Amy smiled. "I met Kieren."

"Kieren. Was he that boy...?"

"He is. You know, it's strange," she said, shaking her head fondly. "We didn't know each other before we died. We really don't have the same interests, but there's just something about him that's... incredible. He can be really funny when he wants to be."

"Hmmm... I would like to meet him one day."

"Oooh! Yes, definitely! You're going to _love_ him. He's my BDFF."

"I'm sorry, your what?"

"My Best Dead Friend Forever," Amy said fondly.

 

 

 

 

For her final postcard, Amy found the most touristy-British card to send to Kieren. Though London was hours away, she got a picture of the London Eye, and plastered tiny stickers of tea cups and the Union Jack all over it. She wrote a single line.

I'M COMING HOME.


End file.
